I've been issued the ice bucket challenge three times now.
Which I think means I should probably get around to responding.
Thoughts?
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Jo said…
You should DO it! Of course, I say this only having witnessed two of them in person. Zarah was pretty classic! My friend Lindsay had the same cooler as Zarah, but her's had more ICE. At least no one was hit in the head with the lid as we don't have one on that cooler! If you need help, I'm sure a couple of your cousins could be talked into helping. Either way, enjoy!!
The confusion continues. Tuesdays seem to be the days for odd discoveries. Hmmm ... Much stress. Big presentation for work tomorrow. I'm downright scared right now, but that's probably mostly due to the fact that I have NO IDEA what to expect. On the bright side, in 24 hours, it'll all be over. Thank goodness. Then there are just papers left, but papers I can handle. And a presentation for senior design, but that's a group thing. Ten days and it's just finals week. I like finals week. Things are oddly easier during finals week.
I'm not totally sure what spurred this memory, but this is a story that needs to be told. Over the years, I've had a lot of random jobs. It started when I was young and glued pictures for bridge reports (my family's version of "working with the family business). I had a job at Subway one summer (easily my least-favorite job), was a bridge inspection field technician with the family business, worked in a church camp kitchen, and was a lab assistant. The summer I started this blog, I was working at the school's day care. It was my second summer there. The job was certainly not what I was hoping to do the rest of my life -- but for a nineteen-year-old it was decent money and okay hours. And hey, a couple times a week I got to hang out at the pool and get paid for it. Not a bad gig. [My dad also referred to it as the "world's best birth control" and he may have been right.] I don't remember a lot of the ins and outs of that summer -- most
You know, I've had a lot of jobs. Boxer, mascot, astronaut, imitation Krusty, baby proofer, trucker, hippie, plow driver, food critic, conceptual artist, grease salesman, carnie, mayor, grifter, bodyguard for the mayor, garbage commissioner... If someone asks, how do you describe your first job? Not shockingly (if you’ve known me at all in the last three or four years decade ) I’ve been thinking rather hard about the road to my current point, as far as the professional (or at least employed) realm goes. And I don’t know how to describe my first job. Well, okay. I suppose what I don’t know is what to consider my first job. There’s the first non-chore thing I did to earn money, which involved putting together bridge reports for the family company. They’d give me an envelope of photos and a photo log from the day’s inspections and I’d sit on the floor in my mom’s office, gluing photos onto sheets of paper and carefully writing out the descriptions. My penmanship
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